


Almost

by MercurialArchivist



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, and he doesn't care who hears it, cursing, even if it's just himself hallucinating himself, michael has a filthy fucking mouth, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-10-01 16:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialArchivist/pseuds/MercurialArchivist
Summary: Michael De Santa does some thinking and almost has an epiphany.





	Almost

The car idling was a familiar noise, now. A low vibrating rumble, more powerful since the first job paid out and he had the entire system tuned up and, in some places, swapped out. The smell of crappy cheeseburgers wasn't going to go away anytime soon, though.

'So here I am,' Michael thought, grimly chewing through another burger, eyes fixed on the building across the street. 'Casing another joint for Lester, Trevor kicking around somewhere in the desert, and dragging Frank along for the ride.'

He took a drink of his, now that he thought about it, absurdly oversized drink, cold sugar drowning out everything for a moment.

"Shit, Michael, you're really still doin' this? Thought you were gettin' out." He turns to the passengers seat, pistol half drawn (yes, officer, the silencer is there solely to protect my ears if I have to shoot some dumb motherfucker) and stops. It's like looking in a mirror.

Okay, it's not, unless the mirror magically took off 20 lbs and as many years. 'Fuck, was I ever that young?'

"Michael, everyone was young once. And everyone was new, once," Other Michael stated, a bit of a sneer distorting Midwest boyish handsomeness. "And enough with the Other Michael shit. I'll make it easy, call me Townley. Better name than De Santa anyways."

"What the fuck are you doing in my car?"

Townley shrugged, leaning over and grabbing a couple of fries, popping them in his mouth and talking through them, "Fuck if I know, man, acid flashback? You've gotten up to some shit, and a lot of it ain't really healthy."

"And my hallucinations can't do better than to show up and just start talking shit?"

"Not much worse than your friends, pal. Like shit, shouldn't you just off Trevor?"

Michael blinks once, hard, and turned back to stare at the building off to his right. Small bank, old alarm, and not protected by dirty cops this time. Just some tellers, an old security guard, and whatever customers are there.

"Michael, you know that security guard ain't gonna just sit there when you walk in. He's gonna draw on you, and you're gonna have to put him down."

His eyes narrow, ignoring the chattering hallucination. He knew that, he wasn't stupid. He had him pegged as a hard man from the first time they observed the place. Also as a man who had practiced, but never fired his gun in anger, in self defense, in defense of others. Small town, as far from the corruption of Los Santos as you could really get.

"Michael, Michael... I'd ask when you realized you were the bad guy, but honestly, you've known that for a while. I mean what haven't you done? Only thing I can think of is sexual assault, and that's only if pawing at those strippers doesn't count. I think what I wanna know is... When did it get this bad?"

He spins around, instincts having him draw his pistol again, pointing at... A window, now. Whatever, whoever that was, he's gone now. Flicking the safety back on is as natural as breathing (and what does that say about you). Like most things, he puts this down to Trevor's influence.

Trevor, Trevor... A monster, a whirlwind of death and drugs and pain in the skin of a man. He might have had a soul, once, but whatever he has now is tarnished and worn and barely deserves the title.

"Yours isn't much better, Michael." His head whips around again, and Townley still isn't there. Only his voice is. "I mean, really, if you can only say you're better than Trevor..."

'Then who the fuck have I become?' He breathes in sharply. Maybe Townley's right. Trevor has the luck of the devil himself, but Michael has it too. He hasn't done much good for anyone, really. Almost a monster is only barely better. 'But maybe... Maybe I can fix this?'

It wouldn't be too hard, not for him. Not many people who aren't afraid of Trevor know as much about the man as he does. Get him in his sleep, maybe. Ron wouldn't do it. Wade's too scared to do it. But... Michael could. Might be doing the world a favor if he did. Maybe do one go-

He's interrupted by something from the corner of his eye. 'Shit, the guard... Must have spotted me and gotten suspicious.' He throws the car in drive and floors it, content that there were no cameras that could have caught his face and the guard didn't get a clear look at him. White guy, dark hair, sunglasses, and he's one out of a million.

Michael knew he was sharp, knew he was hard. But smart, too. Plans would have to change to account. He'd tell Trevor to shoot the guard as soon as the walked through the doors.

No sense taking unnecessary risks, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This was... Weirdly fun to write, honestly. I like Michael as a character. I like Franklin better, but Michael has a weird vibe to him.


End file.
